Keeping Warm
by DaisyDay
Summary: It's the start of a new year, and a new chance for Mike and Connie to discover the feelings they have for one another during the coldest days of winter.
1. Chapter 1

(Disclaimer: These characters are part of the Law and Order universe.)

Let's pretend there was a season 21, shall we?

Keeping Warm

Chapter 1

The December blizzard unleashed its fury, making ADA Connie Rubirosa glad to step into the warmth of the somber DA's office.

After flying home for a Christmas week and having a wonderfully festive time, she returned back to work. Walking down the office aisle, she quietly nodded to the few employees who chose to stay behind.

With the bustle of shopping completed, the holiday mistletoe put away, and the bright presents unwrapped, another Christmas in New York City had come and gone.

And New Year's was just around the corner.

The office looked the same as before she left. No one had bothered to store away the measly Yuletide decorations. The lackluster garland drooped against the wall and the sad looking tabletop Christmas tree was forsaken in one corner of the room.

The DA's office was usually slow this time of year. Most of the staff was off, still celebrating their two- week holiday vacation. There were not many cases to prosecute. Even criminals had managed to let go of their law-breaking ways during this sluggish time.

And here Connie sat, amidst a stack of files at her desk.

She knew this would be the ideal time to catch up on all the paperwork. Like all jobs, the DA's office was required to keep thorough, accurate records.

Sighing, she realized she would be at her computer for awhile, that's for sure. She browsed through the file cases, recalling the many cases she had prosecuted with Mike…speaking of which…

Looking up, her eyes darted to EADA's Mike Cutter's office. She had not seen him since she had been back. He had been her boss for three years now. Of course, he would be in his office, she thought with a smile to herself.

She could see him through the glass windows, his total concentration on the file. He really was a dedicated prosecutor, she thought. Sure, he could be stubborn and unorthodox, but it was always in the pursuit of justice.

It was as if he sensed he was being observed, for suddenly he looked up and caught her gazing at him through the office windows. Intense blue eyes met soft brown ones. A blush of color flew to her cheeks as she turned and focused her eyes back on her computer screen.

Her fingers shook as she tried to calm herself. Well, that was embarrassing, she thought. She had no idea why she had been looking at Mike, though she noticed she had been doing it more and more lately. Sometimes he made it difficult for her to think clearly. There was something about him that seemed to saturate her senses. Forcing herself to look back at the screen, her mind could not compute any of the words displayed there.

"Working on a case without me?"

Connie couldn't help but give a gasp at the sound of the familiar voice. She had not realized Mike had left his office and was now sitting across from her. How long had she been staring blankly at the screen? She forced herself to try and act casual with him.

"Hi Mike," she greeted, hoping he wouldn't notice her high coloring, "I was trying to catch up with some paperwork."

"Were you trying to memorize the case? Because you were staring at the same screen display for a good ten minutes."

Had he been observing her, too? She glanced over at him, her palms suddenly feeling sweaty. What was wrong with her? Her entire body seemed to pulse in response to him. As she watched him, she couldn't help but think it was somehow indecent for a man to look so attractive, especially when he was her boss.

"So Mike, how was your Christmas?" Connie asked, trying to fill the space up with words.

_Lonely __and __quiet,_ he wanted to tell her.

He usually didn't mind spending Christmas alone, but this year he felt miserable. He actually missed being in the office. Who was he fooling? It wasn't the office he missed; it was seeing Connie daily that he missed. She made him realize how nice it would be to have someone to talk and argue and share with. Someone to split his meals, and maybe even cuddle in bed to keep the winter chill away.

"It was great!" he feigned, "I hope you enjoyed your time in Los Angeles."

"Oh yes!" said Connie, "But I'm so glad to be back where I belong!"

Oh god, why she have to word it like that? Would he be able to read between the lines?

There were moments when she had been visiting in Los Angeles with family and thoughts of Mike pervaded her mind. A wistful ache would settled in, where she yearned to be back in New York. She had tried hopelessly to push those musings aside. He was her boss, after all, and they had a professional relationship, _period_. Or maybe it was just a comma.

"I completely agree," he simply stated.

Connie had a slight déjà vu. Mike had said the exact same sentence when a male juror had emailed Connie that she was the "total package." That had been the first time she thought a spark had passed between them, if only for a flash. She looked over at him, and if Mike had been recalling that same incident, his expression wasn't giving it away.

Because at the moment, Mike had something else on his mind. He took a deep breath in.

"Connie, I just wanted to let you know that I'll be gone from the office this coming week."

Connie's heart dropped, "Is everything alright?"

"Oh, fine, just fine. It's just a… personal matter. A friend had called, needing my help. I'll be leaving town. The office is slow now, anyway."

"A friend?"

Mike smiled at her questioning look, "You seem surprised that I _have_ a friend!"

"No, no, it's not that at all, Mike."

Connie could not breathe as she willed herself not to give away her thoughts. She tried to appear composed when all she could feel was sadness at his departure. So he would be gone for a week. They were not exactly personal friends, so she did not feel comfortable asking about the nature of his personal business.

And for a split second, jealousy entered her mind as she thought it could be a woman Mike was helping out.

"Anything I could do to help?" Connie asked casually.

_Yes, __come __with __me_, Mike thought.

Connie's eyes became amazingly large with surprise.

With a start Mike realized that he must have spoken his thought out loud; that he had inadvertently blurted out he wanted her to come with him.

"You need my help?" Connie asked, hope growing within her heart. She looked straight into his eyes, her gaze clear, "because I do have some time- off coming to me… if my boss approves, that is."

Mike felt his heart doing cartwheels. Hearing the word "boss" in that same sentence, however, kept him grounded and he once more displayed a professional demeanor.

"That would be great, for it does concern a legal matter," he replied quickly, his pulse thumping in anticipation, "and, uh, thanks, Connie."

Connie smiled, trying not to look overly elated.

"I'm just glad I hadn't unpacked yet!"

Connie was captured by his steady regard. They were looking at each other longer than was necessary. Her skin prickled with heat.

Mike experienced the same keen awareness he had felt from the first moment they had worked their first case together. Eventually, as they continued working side by side through several cases, he found her to be funny, intelligent, beautiful and intriguing. What troubled him was that he didn't know what he wanted from her.

He just knew that right now, he was happy at the reality of spending more time with her.

"Then it's settled," Connie said, feeling slightly faint at how he stared at her with blue eyes that gleamed with heat and energy.

A lazy smile touched Mike's lips.

"It's settled."

.

.

_I know, I know, I had said I would be gone for awhile, but I wanted to do a holiday story, but Christmas came too quickly, so I changed my story to a New Year's Eve story! Hope you like it!_

_Please review_


	2. Chapter 2

The Applewood Inn

Chapter 2

New Year's Eve was less than a week away.

Although Christmas was over, holiday decorations continued to be displayed everywhere, to be taken down after the New Year. In the big cities, especially, reminders of anything Christmassy seemed irrelevant as people moved past the holidays.

In small towns across Amerca, however, the Yuletide trimmings were festively exhibited far past the holidays, for it reminded the town of the warmth and coziness of being home.

Applewood in Massachusettes was such a town.

The rustic New England village was like a step back in time. Most of the town consisted of simple painted houses with colored shutters and red barns. It was located 150 miles north of Boston, but with its simple colonial setting, it could not be more different from the sprawling, metropolitan city.

Senior resident Annabelle Murphy, along with her husband, Bud, owned the small inn located in Applewood. She especially loved this place during the winter season. The entire town had been blanketed in white snow, decorated with snowflakes and candy canes and lights.

Anabelle liked looking out the window to view the gingerbread cookies displayed in the local bakery or the sounds of jingle bells ringing down the street. Although Christmas Day was over, she could almost hear the Christmas carolers in traditional Victorian garb strolling by as they did during Christmastime.

To her, Christmas in Applewood never ended, for the spirit of love resided in the townspeople's hearts throughout the year.

Never mind that it was cold blustery outside. The day had started with snow falling heavily with wind gusts reaching almost 60 mph. But there was no such thing as bad weather for her. Some days she just wore more clothing than other days, is all.

The hearth here was always warmly lit to welcome all who came.

It was late afternoon when the door of the inn unexpectedly burst opened, bringing in a sudden gust of snow flurries to the inn.

Anabelle looked up as a man and a woman, bundled up in wool coats, hats and scarves, rushed to get in and shut the door. They seemed to be happy as they discussed the cold weather of the town.

"Brrrr! Oh, Brrrrrrr!" exclaimed the attractive female, as she attempted to warm herself by wrapping her arms around herself, "I feel as though I had been in a freezer with the fan turned on!"

"Typical weather for the town of Applewood!" smiled the male, "But they love it! I should have told you there are basically only two seasons here worth appreciating: winter and baseball!"

Anabelle would recognize that male's voice anywhere. She quickly rounded the counter while Mike and Connie were still brushing patches of snow off their thick wool coats.

"If I live and breathe! Mikey! Come here to your auntie!…" She turned to yell in the next room, "Bud, honey! Come quick! Mikey's here!"

"I'm comin' woman!" a gruff voice shouted from another room.

Bud, an elderly but sturdy gentleman, hobbled into the room. His whole face lit at the familiar figure, "Well, will you look what the storm brought in! Looks like we got somethin' to celebrate tonight!"

Bud and Anabelle each gave Mike a big hug as they nodded to his companion.

"And who is this you've brought home to us, Michael?" Bud greeted Connie, "From what I can tell, I guess the city _does_ know how to grow the pretty ones!"

Connie laughed merrily, liking the couple immediately.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Uncle Bud," Mike seemed to be blushing, "This is Connie Rubirosa…another prosecutor from New York City. She's here to help out on the case. Connie, this is Bud and Anabelle Murphy."

"Hello, and nice to meet you two," stated Connie.

As Connie stuck out her hand, Anabelle made an obvious gesture of looking at Connie's hand and noting no ring, remarked, "Another _prosecutor,_ you say? She's also lovely _and_ single to boot!"

"Now, Auntie Annie…" Mike began.

"Oh, pay no mind to our Little Miss Matchmaker over there!" said Bud heartily, "She'd matched sunshine to lightening if she could! I'm sure you must be freezing cold after being in the snow!"

"Oh, where are my manners?" Anabelle said, "Of course they are! You two young people head straightway to our special alcove in the next room over there and I'll get you both some hot cocoa! You'll do all your unpacking later! Go on, git!"

Mike and Connie exchanged looks. The thought of sharing hot cocoa, in a picturesque setting while hailing snow fell outside, certainly _did_ sound inviting.

.

.

Mike updated Connie as they sat in a room called the "window" room.

Leather books covered one wall three stories high. The colonial styled room was furnished with two plush love seats, matching easy chairs, pillows and a chess table.

But it was the large triple–pane Bay Windows, projecting outward from the wall, that was the highlight of the room.

Connie sat on the extended window ledge alongside with Mike. They had a nice view of the snowstorm outside while feeling warm and snuggly inside, with two mugs of hot cocoa placed in front of them.

A nice fire had been started in the fireplace.

Connie smiled in her mug as the steam came up to warm her nose. Mike liked how she took pleasure in the simple things. As she took another sip, Mike explained to her about the case.

It was a straight-forward case. A conglomerate had bought some land in Applewood and was planning to construct a modern shopping center, despite protests from the townspeople. Mike was here to represent the people of Applewood.

"Hmm…a case against a corporation?" Connie questioned, "it sounds as if you are going up against some very powerful people. They probably hired a whole team of legal experts with some pretty strong arguments for putting a shopping center here. "

Mike shrugged, "Everyone is entitled to present their side of an issue. It's just that theirs is stupid."

It was hard for Connie to hide a smile.

"So, _what_, you plan to win your case by _humoring_ them into submission?"

Mike grinned, "That could be one way. _Or_ I could prosecute the case honestly and fairly, a strategy few lawyers use."

Connie shook her head, "My, my, you don't even need _me_ to do research! You could just perform a nightly prosecutory stand- up routine in front of an open mike! How could we not win?"

Although they knew they needed to seriously discuss the case, they were having a grand time. Connie took a sip as she glanced around the provincially decorated room.

"So how do you know these lovely people in this quaint town?" Connie asked.

"Bud was my father's best friend," explained Mike, as he, too, enjoyed his warm drink, "Even though we moved around a lot with my father being in the army, we always managed to end up here for the holidays."

Connie looked around at the ambiance, "You must have had some amazing Christmas memories."

Mike shrugged, "I don't know if it was all that. This place always seemed to be a waiting station, someplace to hang our hats for a second before it was time to go again."

She looked at him with empathy. What it must have been like for a little boy like Mike to continually move around, never having a place to call his own.

The conversation was getting too personal.

"Anyway," said Mike, purposely shuffling some papers, "Our court strategy, of course, is to show the destruction of a lovely community, of the jobs it would take away. I need you to do some research on the impact the building of a mall would have on local jobs, the wildlife habitat and the loss of open space…"

Connie took the papers he handed over to her, and added her own suggestion, "I think it might also be a good idea to check on the impact of traffic on air quality standards, too."

Mike nodded approvingly.

"I knew you would come in handy!" Mike teased.

Connie found it hard to keep her mind on the case. She just wanted to appreciate the warmth of the inn and being alone with Mike. Alone with Mike? This was not a date! He was her boss and he was sitting across from her, not gazing longingly into her eyes, but asking about air quality standards!

As they talked further, their bodies had also come closer together, although neither had been aware it had occurred.

Connie experienced a sweet quake of familiarity. It seemed that ever since Mike had won the Marcus Woll case, she had become accustomed to the closeness of him; whether they walked in tandem throughout the city, shared a drink at the bar or sat in opposing chairs at her desk, they always seemed physically so close.

The late afternoon light had frittered away. The glow from the fireplace struck tiny glints of gold and red in Connie's hair. Mike had never noticed that before and he was mesmerized by it.

He became strangely quiet as his breathing changed to a deeper, faster rhythm. His intense look made Connie's cheeks feel warm.

"Mike," Connie asked softly, "What is it?"

"It's...nothing..."

In the background was the crackling of the fireplace.

He noticed a strand of Connie's hair that had fallen slightly out of place. Leaning forward, Mike's hand reached up and gently touched the misplaced lock of hair.

He was so physically near her now. It was like a dream. She watched his face as his forefinger and thumb gently rubbed the silken strand.

His eyes are such a deep shade of blue, she thought as she felt his fingers lingering in her hair longer than necessary.

Connie watched him steadily, astonished at the tender gesture, the extreme care with which he brushed her loose hair back. And then, regrettably, it was over.

He drew a deep breath, looking surprised at what just happened.

"Connie, I-"

Connie felt a tingling warmth to her skin as she noticed something that could pass for passion in his eyes. Little did she realize that those same responses had been reflected in her eyes.

All she knew was that...it shouldn't be happening.

"Mike," Connie's voice sounded different, "We're no longer cold, are we? I think we should go to our rooms now and unpack."

Mike nodded, feeling the cold once more.

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_There is always something magical about small town Americana during the holidays, don't you think?_

_Please review_


	3. Chapter 3

Sleepless in Applewood

Chapter 3

The next day heavy snows in the wintry mix continued to pound the small inn. Connie could hear the shutters loosely flailing as the winds swirled in the frozen precipitation.

Mike had gone to the county clerk's office to file the case. Meanwhile Connie had set up her laptop on the inn's dining room table and was doing some research when Anabelle walked in, a medium cardboard box in her hands.

"Already hard at work, I see," Anabelle stated with a smile. She placed the box on the table. Inside were some flyers and envelopes. She sat down and proceeded to put together the mailings.

Connie glanced over at the flyers.

"The town's holding a New Year's Eve party?"

Anabelle nodded.

"Over at the community center. It's our biggest party, next to the Christmas one, that is. I hope you'll be able to attend, although it's no 'dropping of the big ball' like you city folks have in New York City!"

Connie smiled, "Well, it sounds inviting, but I don't think we'll be staying that long. Hopefully the case will be over by then."

"Pshaw! You don't need no reason to stay—stay because you want to!" Anabelle said. She leaned over and semi-whispered, "And it'll give you a reason to dance with our little Mikey!"

Connie's initial reaction had been to smile at the reference to "little Mikey", but instead her face reddened at the implication of them as a couple.

Anabelle chuckled.

"Oh, look at you! All embarrassed and all! That alone tells me somethin' that I thought I had noticed the minute you two came through the door of my inn!"

There was a part of Connie that wanted to confide to Anabelle regarding her feelings for Mike. Yet she was unsure exactly what those feelings were. There was definitely a growing attraction.

Since meeting Mike, her personal life did not seem as interesting as her work life. Yet, it was wrong to be interested in her boss—she had already traveled down that road before. And it turned out to be a short cut to embarrassment.

But Connie was older and wiser now. The excuse of "Things happen" just didn't fly anymore.

So, what kind of a lawyer is our little Mikey?" asked Anabelle, breaking into her thoughts, "As a boy, he was a handful! Always trying to outtalk everyone. I used to tell him, 'Mikey, a sharp tongue doesn't mean you have a keen mind'!"

Connie smiled, thinking about a young, obstinate Mike.

"Anabelle, I can tell you with certainty that Mike is an excellent lawyer. You would have been so proud to see him prosecute a case."

Of course, Connie didn't mention the number of times Mike had "bend the rules" to win a conviction.

"You don't say now," Anabelle said observing Connie carefully, "I bet he holds _everyone_ in that room spellbound!"

Connie was truly feeling the warmth of the room as Anabelle continued.

You know, Connie, you probably don't even realize it, but every time you or I mention Mikey's name, your whole face lights up!"

"W-what, _no-o!_ _What_?" Connie's blush was evident now. She pondered how she could ever remain indifferent when thinking about him.

From the other room they heard the inn's door opened.

A cold blast of winter air swept through the entrance of the inn and managed to even carry through to the dining room. Connie could not help but brighten at the prospect of Mike coming home.

Coming home? What was she thinking?

As she heard the familiar sound of his footsteps, she straightened up and looked expectantly at the entryway. Ever since last evening when she had felt his touch, she had been anticipating his presence. The footsteps stopped and his figured appeared at the doorway.

His gaze immediately shot to Connie.

A different expression crossed his face when he saw her. It was a look of total radiance, something she had never seen, even when he had won the toughest of cases.

A faint smile touched her soft lips at his presence, but internally, Connie was a mess of flurry nerves.

All of this was not lost on Anabelle, who had the biggest smile of all.

Clearing her throat, Anabelle spoke out, "Mikey, I've never seen anyone enter a room so quickly in my entire life!"

Mike's attention slowly shifted to Anabelle. It was as if he had just noticed her.

Wanting to divert Anabelle's attention, he sniffed the air with appreciation, "It smells delicious in here, Auntie! Beef stew for dinner?" he cast a good-natured glance at her.

"Roast beef, actually!" said Anabelle proudly, "with homemade mashed potatoes and fresh steamed spinach! And for desert, I've made your favorite—apricot jam pudding…and I better not see any thumbprints on top of it, either, you hear me?" She turned to Connie and with an amused tone and added, "He used to do that all the time, thinking I wouldn't notice the telltale evidence, that mischievous rugrat!"

Mike grinned at Connie as he nudged his head at Anabelle, "Yeah, I got my hand slapped pretty hard at times!"

Anabelle _humphed!,_ "In my book it wasn't hard enough!"

She got up to go in the kitchen to check on the food, "And remember, dinner_before_dessert!" they heard her exclaimed from the kitchen.

After she left, Connie lifted an eyebrow to Mike, "Really? Apricot jam pudding?"

Mike grinned, "What can I tell you? I'm a sucker for those pretty little scallops tin pans!"

That made Connie laugh.

She hadn't realized how much she enjoyed Mike's company out of a work environment. Sure, there were times when they grabbed a quick bite or they had a fast drink at a local bar, but this was a different Mike she was seeing now. He seemed more relaxed, more himself.

Mike took a seat across from her with an air of comfortable familiarity. He seemed to relish the small town setting. Connie was perplexed by his open enjoyment.

"I hadn't realized how much you enjoyed small towns," Connie stated in a teasing tone.

He looked solemn as his voice quieted.

"It's not the quaint town I am enjoying, Connie. It's the company I'm keeping."

Connie was stunned to discover her own desires had been awakened by his simple comment. She felt sensations brushing along her nerves, centers of heat collecting in sensitive parts of her body.

It felt strange to know that the sight of Mike, the sound of his voice, could produce such strong feelings to someone as practical as her.

Mike could not believe what he just admitted to. Why did he say something like that to her? Probably because she always had a way of making him reveal what he truly felt.

To distance himself, Mike glanced down at the flyers Anabelle had spread out on the table. He noted the invitation to the New Year's Eve party.

He picked up the flyer, "Oh, Applewood's annual New Year's Eve party. I should tell you, this is usually considered one 'humdinger' of a party!"

Connie regarded him carefully, trying to see if he meant more than he was saying, but his expression revealed nothing. She had seen that look often in court.

Internally, Mike _was_ mulling over the idea of …perhaps…asking...but then, no. Once they got back to New York City, they would once again have to be office colleagues. This was not a social call for them, after all. This was a legal case.

Feeling vulnerable, Mike stood.

"Mike?" she questioned, "You're leaving?"

_Yes, because if I don't, I will eventually want to ask you to the dance._

Mike's expression had become guarded.

"I think I'll go upstairs and work on my opening arguments for the case. We'll get together after dinner and compare notes."

Connie hid her disappointment, "Sure, I should have all my research completed by then."

Mike reluctantly turned and walked away, not realizing Connie was watching his every step.

He needed to stay focus on the job on hand. If there was one thing that was important to him, it was his work. Mike had devoted his life to his job. It had taken him years to build an impenetrable wall so that he could not feel pain or hurt...or even love. He was too busy to deal with those kinds of feelings.

Never had he envisioned someone he worked with to be the one to break through his well-constructed defenses. That worried him. He knew that Connie was the type of woman who would not be content with a light affair. She would want to own the heart of any man she became involved with, and Mike did not know if he could be that man.

His career was his life.

His calcified heart was not available to her or to anyone else.

.

Later that night, in the wee hours of the night, Mike was tossing and turning in bed. He would wake up frequently and realize he was all alone. He sat up and looked towards his room door.

_She_ was only across the way, he thought, longingly.

He started second guessing why he thought bringing Connie here was such a great idea. Instead of feeling happy being here with her, the feeling was more of heartache as he found himself yearning to be with her all the time.

He knew he would not be able sleep because of his preoccupation with Connie.

He should have never let himself even _think_ that he had a chance with someone who was clearly not meant for him. She was his colleague and he could not bear to lose that connection with her by asking for something more.

Scowling, Mike frustratingly ran his hand through his tousled hair. Sleep, he needed to sleep, but he couldn't.

Perhaps if he had some warm milk he would sleep better, he thought. He pulled back the covers and immediately his warm body collided with the cold night air. Putting on an extra v- neck wool sweater and some woolen socks, Mike silently crept down the stairs, past the dining room, towards the kitchen. To his amazement, he could see light coming through the bottom slit of the door.

Someone was in the kitchen.

His heart leaped at the thought of who it could be. But then again, it could be Anabelle fixing tomorrow's breakfast, or Bud getting a late night snack. It was best he turn around and head back to bed.

But, instead, he proceeded forward.

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.

_Please review_


	4. Chapter 4

Unexpectedly

Chapter 4

It was the wee hours of the morning the heavy wet flakes continued to pound of the tiny inn, driven by the strong wind gust.

A slight noise of footsteps walking back and forth was coming from inside the kitchen as Mike stood just outside the swinging door in the dining room. Pushing the door slightly opened, he took a peek inside.

Like the rest of the house, the kitchen exuded warmth and coziness.

The use of soft, sun-washed colors—straw, wheat and terra cotta were echoed throughout the entire cooking area. Farm style pine cabinets were augmented with hand painted ceramic knobs. The copper pans and utensils dangling above the wooden cabinet contributed to the informal comfort of the countrified kitchen.

Standing with her back to him, he saw a bundled- up Connie, wearing a thick cashmere hoodie top with sweat pants and bulky socks. He could see her hovering over the stove, stirring a small pot of warm milk. She was softly humming some song as she tested the milk and then turned off the stove.

The sweet, homey image seemed to arouse deep feelings inside of him.

From the stove, Connie turned around with the milk carton in her hand, intending to put it back in the refrigerator. She stopped in her tracks when she spotted him at the door.

He entered and stood in front of her. Connie felt breathless, unable to stop staring in the blue depths of his eyes…they were so intense and intelligent.

"Mike," she managed to say, "I-I…couldn't sleep and I thought some warm milk might help."

She said it as if she needed an excuse to be in there.

"So...then...did you make extra for a second cup?" His expression looked hopeful.

Connie relaxed and smiled, "Of course, have a seat."

A tiny round distressed-finished table with two wooden chairs were situated in one corner, where his aunt and uncle usually took their meals. Mike took a seat at the breakfast nook and waited. He liked watching Connie hovering over the stove. He was fantasizing that they were at their own place and she was making the warm milk specifically for him, instead of him being an unexpected guest.

He sighed, knowing he had to stop thinking like that, for that was what was causing his sleepless nights.

She came over with the two steaming mugs and place them on the rustic table. He took a sip. It was heated at the perfect temperature and seemed to help warm his body.

"So," Connie asked, lifting the mug to her lips, "have you worked out the kinks to your opening statement yet?"

"I think so," stated Mike, as he continued to watch her, wondering how, with layers of thick sweat clothes on, she managed to still look so classy and beautiful.

"So let's hear it," proposed Connie.

"_Now_?" Mike looked questionably at her, "It's three o'clock in the morning!"

"_Oh?…_ and are you running late? Is there somewhere else you'd rather be?" she teased.

There was a slight pause from Mike.

"No, not at all."

Connie drew a deep breath, not meaning to imply the double meaning. Well, she certainly walked right into that one! She tried to divert attention from that statement.

"Don't try and change the subject, Mike…the practice run?"

Mike was actually relieved when she circumvented his comment. In the future, he would need to be careful how he responded to her.

"Sure, if you don't mind hearing it," Mike relented. He stood up and looked down at his knock-about clothes, "I feel strange, though, presenting opening arguments in such casual clothing."

Connie actually appreciated him in his layered clothing. He managed to look both boyish and cuddly at the same time, especially with his hair slightly mused up. Why do men look so attractive after getting out of bed while women seem to deteriorate as the night wore on? Connie asked herself

"Don't worry about appearances, Mike," Connie assured him, "I, playing the part as the judge, will be very objective in my analysis. So please, your opening statement…"

Mike grinned and then cleared his throat. He started pacing, one hand in the pocket of his sweats and his other hand gesturing to emphasize certain words.

"The massive invasion of overstuffed retail stores is a hands-on environmental, economic and social issue, which has provoked widespread citizen response. For the last two decades, retail redundancy has created…"

He stopped when he saw Connie lift her eyebrow.

"_What_?" he asked.

"What? Why, nothing, Mike, " she insisted, "I didn't say a thing! Go ahead... I'm listening!"

"You didn't _need_ to say anything!" Mike half-joked, "I recognized that raised eyebrow anywhere! To me it means, '_Really? No, really…_ _**that**_?"

Connie couldn't help it. The corners of her mouth turned up.

"If you must know, I'm just thinking that…that…you may be well-informed regarding the case, but you have to take in account your audience."

"Which means?"

"…which means, Mike, we are visitors to a quaint, small town. Life is slower, gentler here. The people here do not want to listen to wordy platitudes."

"So, you're basically saying I'm full of hot air?"

"No, no, not at all," said Connie kept the conversation light, "You can certainly keep the speech that you have there, if you so desire. Just know that I am the type of person who tends to yawn when I am interested."

Connie was able to maintain a straight face, although Mike couldn't. Merriment sparkled in the blue depths of his eyes.

"Okay, okay, " Mike good heartedly conceded, "I get the picture. Keep it simple. As my auntie always said, 'we don't need no big-city talkin'. Just get to the point, Mikey!"

Connie laughed at his imitation of his aunt.

Mike long ago had learned the art of speaking to people, but he could not always reach them at their heart. Connie was like this bridge to help him communicate, the colleague who helped him through umpteenth court cases, the woman who stood by him when others didn't believe in him. And how many times had he shown his appreciation?

"Connie," he stated, "I don't know what I would do without you."

He didn't know why, but at this moment, he just felt as if he needed to reach out to her. She needed to feel how much she meant to him.

One of her hands had been laying flat on the table and she gasped when she felt his hand reach over and closed over hers. The feel of his hand on top of hers felt so warm. And wonderful. The initial contact sent sparks running through both their bodies.

They looked at each other, not expecting such a reaction from a simple gesture.

"I really mean it, Connie, thank you for everything," Mike found it hard to keep his voice steady, "There were times I would have given up, but you were always there—"

He stopped suddenly as if he had already said too much. The small kitchen area became uncomfortably quiet, with only the sound of the blustery wind outside to intrude on the silence.

They both looked at where their hands touched. Both were fumbling for the right words to break the spell between them.

_(Mumble...Mumble)_

They were both keenly aware of soft whisperings coming from beyond the kitchen door. The noise of the low tones helped dispel the disturbing sense of intimacy that blossomed in the air.

It brought the situation back to a more comfortable level. Mike turned to grin at Connie as he gestured with his head towards the door.

"Uncle! Auntie!" yelled out Mike, leaning out but still maintaining hold Connie's hand, "You two don't have to whisper anymore...we can hear you!"

Silence.

Then:

"Oh, for heaven's sakes, Mikey!" they heard Anabelle's voice, "It's cold in this room! _Just_ a_sk the poor girl to the New Year's Eve party already!_"

"For sure, son!" came Bud's voice through the door, "I'm getting' restless out here, standing like a god damn statue! My arthritis is startin' to act up!"

Anabelle's voice could be heard responding back.

"Bud, stop you griping and watch your mouth! This here is a romantic moment!"

"Romantic moments can wait, woman! Right now I need some hot chocolate!"

Mike turned back to Connie with a slow smile that never failed to dazzle, "Well, we can't let Bud out there turn into a statue now, can we?"

Pleasure glinted in her beautiful brown eyes and a flush came over her face as anticipation flooded her senses. Mike lightly rubbed the pad of his thumb over the top of her hand, loving the soft, feminine feel of it.

Then in a move she totally did not expect, he brought her hand up and lightly grazed it with his lips before he brought it back down again. Still holding her hand, he gazed into her face.

Connie Rubirosa, will you please be my date at the town-acclaimed New Year Eve's party in Applewood?"

The romantic gesture and invitation was not lost on Connie. It took awhile for her to still the wild thumping of her heart.

As she started to answer, she heard Anabelle yelling through the door.

"Tell her, Mikey, that this New Year's dance is _annual,_ meaning she'll have to wait another _whole_ year if she doesn't go to this one!"

Then they heard Bud's bellowing voice add, "Yeah, and hurry up about it or I'll just ask her myself!"

.

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(I guess you could figure out on your own how Connie answered!)

_Please review_


	5. Chapter 5

A lesson to be learned

Chapter 5

Connie could not remember a time when she had been more excited about the new year. Or more to the point, the annual Applewood New Year's Eve dance.

It was in the late morning and Mike and Connie had spread out the work all on the dining room table. Connie loved the blue-and-white checkered seat cushions complimenting the faded green finish of the table. The antique fireplace mantel and pumpkin-pine floorboards lent instant patina to the rustic room.

Bud had gone out, fighting the blizzard, to buy some more food and supplies for the inn while Anabelle was in the front lobby working on paperwork.

This left Mike and Connie alone in the warmth of the dining area.

They had already been working on the case for most of the morning. Mike was hovered over his yellow legal pad busily scribbling while Connie was intent on looking at a screen on her laptop. In actuality, it had been hard for both of them to stay on target with the case, what with the idea of a party "date", but they trudged on.

"How is the witness list coming along?" Mike asked, trying to avoid looking directly at Connie.

Connie passed a sheet to him, "The usual experts—traffic engineers, hydrologists, town council members, ecologists, and so forth. Pretty dry testimony, actually…so I was thinking... we might make the courtroom drama more personal if we could also bring in just regular people from town—the barber, the shopkeeper, the farmer to testify. Show how the big shopping center will affect individual residents."

For not the first time, Mike nodded appreciatively, "Almost like township character witnesses! I like that idea! I'm sure Anabelle will be able to provide a list for you of willing people from the village. Do you think you could speak to some of the townsfolks later today and tomorrow?"

"I'll certainly do my best! " promised Connie.

She then unexpectedly let out a yawn. The gesture was not loss on Mike.

"I hope that yawn wasn't due to the company," Mike stated.

Connie smiled, knowing he wasn't serious.

"Sorry, Mike, it's just we've been working straight."

Mike stretched where he sat, " You're right. I wouldn't mind a break myself!"

He reached over to the convenient carafe and filled both their mugs with the hot brew, "I'll be glad once this case is over."

_...And we go to the party_ together, added Mike in his thoughts.

Usually he was a man that was very closed about his feelings and not interested in others' feelings. But he found that when he was around Connie, he wanted to know every thought that entered her mind.

He leaned in, urging her to face him.

"Connie...about the party…I hope you don't feel... uncomfortable... with us going together to the New Year's Eve party?"

Connie dropped her gaze, watching her mug of steaming coffee. It was difficult to think clearly when he was asking a personal question with him sitting just across from her.

"Uh, no..." she tried so sound nonchalant, "in fact, I can't remember when was the last time I danced."

She sipped her cooling coffee, trying to still the leap of her heart at the thought of socializing and dancing with Mike.

However, when she looked over at Mike, he had an uncertain expression. Connie put her mug down, wondering why the shift in mood.

"Mike, is there something wrong? You're not changing _your_ mind about the dance are you?"

"Well, no...it's not that...really," responded Mike, but he sounded hesitant "It's just...your last statement about it being a dance made me realize something…"

Connie tilted her head with a questioning glance.

"And what was that, Mike?"

Mike looked at her solemnly, struggling with his words.

"I ...don't know... how to dance."

"You…you don't know how to dance?"

It seemed as if Connie was fighting a smile.

Mike's expression did not waiver.

"…Don't laugh... I'll probably look like a frog in a blender out on the dance floor," admitted Mike.

Connie couldn't help the smile that burst forth and then tried to stifle the reaction when she saw him stiffen up.

"Sorry, Mike, I know it's not funny…it's just so strange to see you so…humbled. Refreshing, actually."

Her gentle teasing caused a surge of embarrassment inside of him.

"Glad you take such great pleasure in my misery, Connie."

"You mean your _humbled_ misery."

Mike agreed, "I'll give you that, and I had forgotten how charming you can be."

They shared teasing gazes.

Connie determinedly stood up.

"Actually, Mike, it's not hard to dance at all! It's just a matter of listening to the music. Come on, I'll show you how to waltz."

Mike's initial reaction was to refuse, but the thought of Connie refusing to go if he didn't learn how to dance gave him incentive. He reluctantly got up.

Both of them walked over to a small opened space in the dining room floor. They turned and faced one another.

"Alright…now," Connie instructed, "The waltz is danced to a triple beat. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three. That's all there is! Just remember that….So, …first, you place your right hand on my waist, slightly in the back like this…"

As he touched her waist, Connie stopped at her reaction to his touch. She could feel the heat from his hand on her and she seemed to forget what she had been about to say as their gazes met.

Mike was the first to speak out, although his voice sounded thick.

"And... then?"

Blinking, Connie forced herself to continue, "Sorry...now, extend your... left hand to your side with your elbow bent and your palm raised, facing me…yes…like that."

He grasped her right hand in a loose grip as she placed her left hand on his right shoulders, basically mirroring his movements.

They both paused, feeling exciting leaps of sensations that resulted from the their hands touching the other's body.

There was an uneasy stir in the air. But the feeling was welcomed, for neither one wanted to be anywhere but here. They could each hear the vulnerable sounds of one another's breathing.

"This is harder than I thought, and we aren't even moving yet," noted Mike, still rooted to the floor.

"Yes, "agreed Connie in a hushed tone, "I-I don't remember it being this difficult myself."

Connie forced herself to concentrate.

"Okay, we'll try it slowly...on the first beat, step forward with your left foot and I will follow your lead."

He took the first step robotically. Connie's mouth twitched with suppressed amusement.

"Good, " Connie tried to be encouragingly, "But let's try it again, this time _gracefully_…not like a lumberjack in a ballet.."

"You're so poetic in your encouragement," Mike said snarkily.

They redid the step and this time it went more smoothly.

"Was that poetry in motion or what?"asked a pleased Mike.

"My toes haven't been flattened, so you did well with that one step," Connie smiled, "but we're not done."

"There's more?"

"_Mike!_"

"Okay... continue, please, Connie."

"Alright," said Connie, "Now, on the second beat, step forward and to the right with your right foot. Like tracing an upside-down letter 'L' in the air."

But all Mike could think about was how light and sweet Connie felt in his arms and it caused a pang of yearning inside of him.

"Mike?" Connie interjected, "I can't move my foot until you do."

"I've muddled through the first step, couldn't we leave it at that?" His eyes looked so sincere, causing Connie to grin, despite herself.

"Mike Cutter, you will learn to waltz or I swear I will not attend the dance with you!"

"Oh,… and is _swearing _part of the dancing ritual?"

"_Mike_…"

"Alright, dammit! _See,_ I can swear, too...hey, maybe I _can_ dance!"

Connie raised her familiar eyebrow. Mike knew what that meant. She meant business.

"Okay, okay," agreed Mike, "I'll get serious. Go ahead, throw everything at me at once...we leaping lumberjacks just _love_ challenges!"

Connie was enjoying this lesson more than she thought she would.

"Alright, but listen carefully," warned a smiling Connie, "Shift your weight to your right foot while keeping your left food stationary. On the third beat, slide your left foot over to your right and stand with your feet together. Finally, on the fourth beat, step back with your right foot. Now…go…One-two-three, one-two-three."

It was a struggle at first.

However, as Mike concentrated on Connie's instructions, his lumbering steps became more assured. It came to a point that Connie was actually smiling, seeming to be enjoying herself.

"I can't fathom why you are smiling," said Mike as they awkwardly glided in the small space, "unless you enjoy stumbling and tripping through waltzes."

Connie tried hard to remain serious.

"You're doing fine, Mike, but remember to keep your arm steady, " she warned, although her eyes beamed as she stared at his concentrated expression, "otherwise, your bent arm will look like you're pumping tire jack."

As she had probably intended, the comment distracted him from counting.

He gave her a sardonic glance, "All I can concentrate on, Connie, is trying not to destroy your foot with one misplaced step. You might think about that before you continue to harass me about the steadiness of my arm."

They were having a grand time.

Staring into her smiling, rosy-cheeked face, Mike experienced a painfully sweet sensation, an ache from deep within. He wished for her to be in his arms all night.

She made him laugh and she was the most intriguing woman he had ever known. But he wanted her more than merely as a dance partner.

With all these thoughts in his head, he lost the rhythm of the waltz and stopped abruptly, causing Connie to bump into him. She made a small, gasping sound.

"Oh, Mike, sorry…you had stopped so suddenly! I—"

The momentum had brought her full against him. The feel of her, caused his body to riot in desire.

Muttering an apology, Mike steadied her between his hands. He intended to release her, but his body would not respond. She was caught in his hold, and surprisingly, she did not move away.

The moment was suspended in time.

She could have easily moved out of his grasp, but she stayed. Seared together in an embrace, they stared at each other in helpless fascination.

From somewhere in the far off distance, they heard the front door of the inn open as the wind howled loudly before the door was forced shut. They heard two voices out in the next room and reality had settled in and they realized they were not alone.

Connie averted her gaze, but not before Mike felt her warm breath wafted over his chin. His mouth felt hot and he longed for pull her in even closer, but he somehow loosened his grip on her, allowing her to be released.

He had never felt so helpless, desperately wanting someone that could not be his.

"I-I think that is enough of a lesson today, Connie," Mike announced.

She silently let out a sigh.

"I agree, we really need to get back to the case on hand," she agreed.

Physically, they were now the same distance apart as when they had started, but emotionally, they felt even closer than before.

Which in their eyes, was not a good thing for working colleagues.

"Thanks, Connie."

Connie felt her face flushed as Mike's gaze was intent and arrested on her.

"You're welcome, Mike…it was certainly…memorable."

.

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_Please review._


	6. Chapter 6

A decision

Chapter 6

It was early morning of the next day.

Connie was still in her room, going through all the clothes she had packed.

She brought out from her suitcase her simple black, long sleeved wrap dress and held it out to examine. This was the dress she had planned to wear to court, but now she was wondering if she could wear it tonight for the dance.

She had not been expected to go to a party, so she had nothing appropriate to wear. And this was not just any party, but a New Year's Eve party with Mike.

A knock on the door of her tiny ioom interrupted her thoughts. It was Anabelle; Connie bade her to come in.

"Connie, dear, I just took some fresh warm blueberry muffins out from the oven," announced Anabelle.

"They smell delicious! I'll be down in a second. Thanks, Anabelle."

Anabelle nodded. As she turned to leave, she saw the black dress that Connie was holding up in her hands.

"Oh!…is that the dress you plan to wear to the dance?"

Connie disheartenedly turned the dress around so that Anabelle could see the front of the dress.

"It's awfully plain, isn't it?" Connie looked disappointed.

Anabelle stepped forward and gave it a good looking over. "It's a lovely dress. "

"But for a New Year's Eve dance?" Connie tried to not make it sound desperate.

"Well, yes, you do have a point, there," Anabelle stated, examining the dress more closely. "For a party dress, it is, if you don't mind me saying, rather...blah."

Anabelle gently ran her hands through the silken material, "It feels so soft, so expensive. You know, dear, I've been known to have a talent for putting a thread in a needle. I could tweak this dress a bit and come up with something more suited for a fancy dance."

Connie wasn't sure if much could be done to the dress, plus did she really want Anabelle to alter her dress? What if the finished dress didn't suit her taste?

"I don't know..."Connie responded truthfully, "It seems as if it would be a lot of work for one night's wearing..."

"In my opinion, it just needs a couple of nips and tucks and it'll be perfect!"

"I wouldn't want to trouble you..."

"No trouble at all, dear!" insisted Anabelle, " Let me work on this in the afternoon while you and Mikey go do your lawyering at the courthouse, and I'll meet up with you there, later!"

Connie was grateful, though still uncertain. "Thank you, Anabelle. I appreciate it..."

"Pshaw! It's nothing," she insisted as she pointed to the dress, "And don't worry, I won't do much with this dress. With your looks, you're sure to stand out, anyway!"

Connie blushed slightly.

Anabelle winked at her mischievously as she continued, "...And if truth be told, I'll _really_ be fixing the dress more for Mikey's benefit!"

Connie couldn't help but smile.

.

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Court in session.

The simplicity of the Applewood courthouse reminded Connie of the Dargerville courthouse.

A single fluorescent bulb was the only light provided in the county courtroom that doubled as a meeting room for council board meetings. An American flag was set in one corner surrounded by plain white walls.

A three-person commission panel from the 'fair city' of Boston presided over the proceedings.

The two men and one woman sat behind a plain writing desk. Off to one side, at a folded table, sat Mike and Connie. Opposite them on the other side, eight lawyers representing SuperMall Incorporate, squeezed around the card table. A galley of 80 chairs was provided for the townspeople to sit.

For two long days, both sides presented convincing sides with an abundant number of experts and personal testimonies to aid with their arguments.

Finally it was time for closing statements. The team of lawyers went first. Their presentation was full of numbers and sales facts and future profits.

At last, it was Mike's turn.

Connie turned to Mike and imparted one of her encouraging smiles. That seemed to inspire him. He assuredly stood and buttoned his jacket.

The tone of his closing argument was simple and to the point, with no irrelevant details to muddy the waters.

"Applewood is a rural, quaint town. When someone sets up shop here, no matter the size of that business, it is a big matter in Applewood. For regardless of its size, that tiny shop or store becomes intertwined in the very fabric of this community…"

Connie watched Mike with her usual look of admiration. He stood tall as he continued his speech, mentioning the importance of every small business in town and the impact the big shopping mall would have on the merchants here. He hit all his points with strength and verve. The courtroom seemed captivated by his earnestness and heart.

He elected to end his closing statement on a personal note:

"...As a youth growing up in Applewood, I had the pleasure of experiencing the appeal and friendly service of the Mom- and- Pop type stores. It was a simpler time, where everyone knew everyone's name. If my family ever needed _anything_, we'd always know we could expect personal service and a friendly greeting at "Betty's Goods" or "George's Hardware" or "Elmer's Gas Station."

He paused to turn and wave at Betty, George and Elmer in the gallery. They returned the gesture with a nod and/or a smile, proud to be mentioned in open court. Mike then turned back to face the committee and continued:

"Of course, times are more complicated now, with technology connecting the world as one. Applewood, like everywhere else, is aware of pressing global issues. Yes, residents here want to save the rainforests. to conserve water, to stimulate the economy, to win the wars. But on the homefront, they want a voice; they want to guide their own destiny."

Mike looked into the eyes of each and every committee member.

"You've weighed the facts; you've heard the personal testimonies. Don't be swayed by numbers or half truths from a corporation that is only interested with bottom-line profits, _not_ bettering the lives of the people in this town. _Let Applewood keep its charm, its way of life._"

His closing statement was simple, yet effective.

The courtroom was silent. Mike nodded to the gallery. His gaze lingered at the crowd long enough to see a proud smile plastered on Bud and a satisfied wave from Anabella. He then turned to acknowledge the commissioners before he sat down again.

The commission took only half an hour to make a decision. The entire courtroom erupted in victory when the vote was unanimous. New modern developments would be not allowed in the tiny town of Applewood without the consent of the Mayor and city council members.

Applewood's future would be determined by its own residents.

Court adjourned.

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Night had fallen and it was New Year's Eve at last.

Bud was downstairs with Mike, helping to adjust his tie for the New Year's Eve party.

"Mikey, hold still, dagnabbit!" Bud said, "You're as fidgety as a horse on a stormy night!"

It took all of Mike's concentration to smother a grin. Nothing Bud could say would ruin his mood after such a great win. He owed a lot of it to Connie. She was the one who did all the research, suggested that he added personal experiences to his case and told him to keep the closing arguments basic.

Mike was standing in the living room entryway of the inn as he waited for Connie's entrance. Anabelle had already come down. He turned when he heard footsteps on the landing, recognizing it as Connie's. He looked up towards the top of the stairs.

"Oh, my word," breathed out Anabelle, as she watched Connie at last in the newly-tailored dress.

Connie looked stunningly lovely as she started descending the stairway.

Anabelle had removed the long sleeves of the black dress, and tucked the bodice in, giving it an appealing sexy-but-classy halter styled dress. In addition, she had shorten the middle- of- the- knee dress two inches. Anabelle had then expertly sewn a simple sequins border down the deep v-neckline with a coordinating black sequins belt to emphasize Connie's tiny waist.

Lastly, she had lent Connie a pair of vintage dangling diamond earrings. No other jewelry was required for the sleek and elegant dress.

Connie had never worn a dress so revealing before; something that emphasized her curves to the max. Her skirt moved in a fluid, rippling mass with each step she took, with each breath she drew. Connie felt vulnerable yet at the same time, strangely free and light. This was the kind of dress she had worn in her daydreams, when she had longed to escape the plainness of her workclothes.

Connie had finally reached the bottom floor. Mike's gazed traveled down the entire length of her, absorbing every detail.

The simple black dress was chic but provocative. Mike had never seen a woman more vibrantly, unreasonably beautiful in his whole life. He felt as if his self -control had threatened to shatter.

His eyes now focused on her glittery earrings, making Connie reached up and unconsciously touch one of the exquisite diamond jewelry.

"Mom's..." he whispered with a revered awe, still looking at them.

Anabelle beamed with heartfelt joy, sure now that Mike recognized these earrings had originally belong to his mother, may she rest her soul.

Mike smiled to reassure Connie.

"...Connie, my mom would have loved them on you. You've brought the sparkle back to her earrings."

Connie felt a lump in her throat at Mike's sentimentality.

Meanwhile Connie's gaze swept over him in feminine assessment.

Although there was not a man whose appearance wasn't improved by formal wear, it did Mike particular justice. His severely simple black jacket was tailored perfectly to his lean built. His black tie and white shirt looked crisp and snowy in contrast to his boyish, raffish, freshly shaved face. Connie could not help but think how handsome he looked.

And tonight, he was hers.

"Connie," Mike admitted, "You look so beautiful."

"She does at that!" agreed Bud as he smiled at her, "As they always say, She'll be the belle of the ball!"

There was talking all at once as everyone put on their thick winter coats, excited to be going to a party together.

When they were finished being bundled up, Mike stared into her velvety brown eyes as he proudly held out his arm, "Shall we?"

Smiling tenderly yet shyly at him, Connie held onto his arm. It felt warm, safe and strong. Their gazes met, both seeing the happiness reflected in each others eyes.

They knew this would be a night they would never forget.

.

.

_Please review._

_Last chapter coming up!_


	7. Chapter 7

Keeping Warm

_Special dedication to my special Law and Order friends: Abby, Amo, Angie, Diana, Ella, Felice, Kat, Mandy and Selene!_

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Chapter 7

The New Year's Eve party was held in the Applewood community center.

It was an everyone-pitched-in event, with the women providing potluck dishes and the men providing the drinks and condiments. The city council threw in the party hats, favors and decorations.

Everyone in town seemed to have been invited to the event. Although the affair was informal, everyone wore his or her best finery to help ring in the New Year.

Balloons attached to gold and silver streamers were used as decorations, hung with tape from the ceiling or against the dark wood panelings. A huge sparkly "Happy New Year 2012" banner occupied one wall.

The hall was already echoing with conversation and laughter when Mike and Connie entered.

Mike was beaming as he escorted Connie into the party. He liked the intimate feel of her arm hooked into his. Mike's breath felt warm on Connie's ear as he leaned in and spoke in a low tone.

"Connie, I'm so proud to have you by my side."

Connie felt a prickling blush rise in her cheeks.

"I'm glad to be here with you, too, Mike," Connie said, scanning the room, "But I'm sure you'd want to re-acquaint yourself with old friends here...perhaps I shouldn't be monopolizing all your time…"

The remnants of a grin lingered on his face as he leaned in again and murmured, "There is no one else I would rather be with."

She felt as if she were in a dream. This couldn't be happening to her…the holiday music, the festive surroundings, the handsome man, next to her.

And not just any handsome man, but Mike.

Being the two newcomers in town, they were instantly bombarded by the residents of the town, some who wanted to congratulate both of them for their court victory and others who merely wanted to learn more of the attractive couple.

Festive music began playing.

The party had officially started. Some people partnered off to the dance floor, others went to get some food, while the rest found seats or stood and socialize.

It was not lost on Connie that Mike had a distinctly proprietary air as he escorted her around. Moving from one group of smiling guests to another, he deftly made the introductions, exchanged good wishes, and made a few jokes with a natural ease.

As they made their way around the room, Mike may have been outwardly socializing with everyone, but his thoughts were of Connie. The sound of her dress swishing, the sleek movement of her body filled his mind with an intoxicating fog. He concluded that all he wanted for tonight was one midnight kiss from Connie.

For the next two hours the dreamlike feeling remained with Connie as she drank, laughed, snacked and conversed.

"So, from what I gather from everyone here," Connie commented when they were at last alone, after being greeted by many of the townsfolk, "You were quite the 'whippersnapper' in your day!"

"True, although I think 'whippersnapper' is a really polite way of saying I had been stubborn and impertinent as a boy!" Mike responded.

"I see time hasn't changed you much," Connie teased, just as someone walked up to them.

"Hello, Connie," a male voice greeted her.

Mike and Connie turned to face Jefferson Shaw. The Shaw family were the owners of Applewood's famous homemade apple jelly. Connie had interviewed the town's favorite son, Jefferson, heir apparent to the company, as a possible witness in court. In the end, she decided not to put him on the stand as a witness, for he would come off too unlikable, too arrogant.

"It's so nice to see you, again!" Jefferson stated to Connie, sounding too slick. He then turned and disdainly looked at Mike.

"Cutter." He curtly said.

Mike nodded at his childhood nemesis, "Shaw."

A new song began. Jefferson turned back to Connie, attempting a charming smile.

"Connie, I came over to see if you would like to dance," Jefferson offered, as he darted a look at Mike's direction, "since others do not care enough to ask you."

"Well, I…" began Connie as Mike intervened.

"I don't think she would care to dance," said Mike coldly.

Connie gave Mike a stunned look. She had been hanging on to Mike arm, but now she removed her hand.

"Mike, " she said, "I can certainly answer for myself."

"Not when it comes to Shaw," Mike responded, and instantly regretted his words. He should have known better. Connie would not appreciate him speaking for her.

Connie's annoyance showed on her face. Although she had been having a grand time, she had hoped Mike would have asked her to dance. She had then accepted the fact that maybe he felt uncomfortable to dance, but who was he to decide whether or not _she_ could dance?

She turned to Jefferson.

"A dance would be nice, thank you," she decided. Jefferson gave Mike a look of satisfaction while Mike glared back at him.

How had the night that started out so promising turn out like this, Mike asked himself as he watched them walking towards the dance floor. He wanted to call out, to ask Connie to dance, but his apprehensions regarding dancing won out.

He didn't want to continue staring at them and start the town gossiping, so he tried to busy himself by talking with other people in the room.

Connie made certain to keep a wide berth as she danced with Jefferson. Jefferson was trying to engage her in conversation, but frankly she was bored with his talk of the family fortune and his stamp collection. He even implied he was the most eligible bachelor in town.

At one point, Connie looked out at the crowd and caught sight of Mike. To her delight, he looked back at them with a frowning gaze. Let him stew, she thought. She wanted Mike to know that she had her own thoughts, her own opinions.

After the dance, Connie did not return to Mike, but decide to socialize on her own.

From where he stood, Mike could see Connie involved in an animated conversation with various townspeople. He anxiously watched Connie's face in the soft glow of the room's lights, her expression looking, by turns ,thoughtful, amused or lively, her lovely brown eyes gleaming more brightly than the candles on the table.

His pride would not allow him to go to her.

When the most recent song ended, the Mayor stepped up to the podium, microphone in hand.

"Ladies and Gentleman! Thank you for coming to our annual New Year's Eve party! I hope everyone is having a grand time!"

Shouting and clapping could be heard everywhere.

"…and now," he continued, "I would like to announce that it is almost the start of a New Year! It is time for the last dance! So grab the one you want to be with when midnight strikes!"

Connie hadn't realize the two hours had slipped by so quickly.

The stroke of midnight was soon upon them.

A slow waltz had started to play.

**(Music)** _The snow is snowing and the wind is blowing__  
><em>_But I can weather the storm..._

Connie glanced in the direction Mike had last been standing. He was gone. She looked left and right and scanned the room. He was nowhere to be found.

**(Music)**_What do I care how much it may storm?__  
><em>_I've got my love to keep me warm..._

Someone tapped her from behind. Smiling and relieved, she turned around. Her expression changed however, when she saw Jefferson standing in front of her.

"Connie," Jefferson was saying, "Lucky you! You get to dance your last dance with me!" He started to reach out for her.

"Uh, I'm sorry, Jefferson…but, no, I can't..."

Jefferson scowled, surprised someone would turn him down, "What do you mean? What's wrong, Connie?"

Connie panicked.

The dance floor was fully occupied as the music played on. Her head continually turned as she tried to make out the shadows. She did not see Mike anywhere. Had he had enough and left? What if she had missed her one chance for a dance with him?

"Hey! I can't wait forever!" Jefferson was getting impatient.

Connie was preoccupied.

"Jefferson... just... _go_!"

"I'm giving you one more chance-" began Jefferson.

A low, controlled voice could be heard from behind.

"You heard what Connie said, Shaw.._.just go_."

Connie and Jefferson both turned to see Mike, his blue eyes blazing and insistent.

Connie's heart thundered with excitement at Mike's appearance. Jefferson started to open his mouth in protest, but when he saw Connie reaction, he indignantly turned and left.

**(Music) **_My heart's on fire and the flame grows higher_  
><em>So I will weather the storm...<em>

Connie could not breathe at all. Mike was near her again. The air vibrated with feelings as they longingly gazed at each other.

"Connie." Mike requested, "Would you do me the honor of the last dance... with me?"

Connie regarded him with a smile, "Mike, I would absolutely love that."

_**(Music)**__ What do I care how much it may storm_  
><em>I've got my love to keep me warm...<em>

Mike slowly let out a relieved breath.

"Connie, about what I said earlier…"

Connie didn't let him finish.

"…Mike, right now, I just want to dance with you. Only you."

**(Music) **_My heart's on fire and the flame grows higher__  
><em>_So I will weather the storm…_

They exchanged relieved smiles as Mike lifted his arms out to Connie.

"Come sail into my arms, then..."

Connie thought he was trying to be teasingly romantic.

"Really, now?" Connie gave him a slightly jesting glance, "Did you just say,_ Come **sail i**nto my arms?"_

His arms were open, his expression serious.

"…it's the harbor of my heart, Connie_…"_

"Oh, Mike..." Connie said shakily as her breath caught.

Mike's gaze remained on her astonished face as she came into his arms. One of his hands caressed her waist, while his other hand reached over to clasp her hand.

**(Music)** _What do I care how much it may storm__  
><em>_I've got my love to keep me warm…_

A heavy, sweet ache formed inside of Connie. Her gaze never left his as they glided around the room, their steps in perfect sync. They were as one.

Just the feel of his hands touching her lightly made her whole body quiver. She felt the incredible warmth of his body against hers as they continued twirling around the dance floor.

Several older couples had stopped to watch, recalling what it felt like to be young and in love.

(Music) _My heart's on fire_  
><em>The flame just leaps higher<em>  
><em>So I will weather the storm...<em>

"Connie, "said Mike as they turned and circled amidst the other couples, "I've been waiting to get this close to you ever since I saw you sitting at my desk that one day, pouring over that note…"

Connie looked surprised, as she made another turn.

"Your desk? A note? You mean the Mila Lingard case? But...wasn't that our first case together?"

He nodded.

"I observed you casually reading the note while you sat comfortably in _my_ chair. That one moment in time felt so natural...as if we had known each other forever."

Connie's mouth formed into a smile as she was being twirled around.

"I recall that moment quite well, Mike. I was thinking how adorable you looked sitting across from me munching away as you read to me the note _you_ held," she responded, "I could barely comprehend the contents of the note!"

Mike's eyes sparkled.

"So you _do_ remember that time quite clearly…"

"I remember everything about you, Mike..."

(Music) _What do I care if icicles form?__  
><em>_I've got my love to keep me warm..._

_..._

The music suddenly stopped.

Most of the lights had been turned low as everyone in the room was shushing others from talking. The Mayor had the microphone again.

"Everyone! The countdown now begins to the year 2012...starting NOW!"

The crowd counted down in unison.

"10! 9! 8!."

Connie gave a warm glance to Mike.

"Mike, I never knew you had...those thoughts of me...so early..."

"7! 6! 5!"

"And why wouldn't I? Couldn't you tell I was mesmerized that day? That's because I was already falling for you…"

Connie's heart skipped a beat.

"4! 3!, 2! ONE!

Mike's eyes were riveted on Connie's. He pulled her even closer to him, urging her hips forward until their bodies were molded together as tightly as the layers of their clothing would allow.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

A cacophony of voices, horns and shouting joined together in celebration. Confetti mysteriously appeared, sprinkling everywhere throughout the opened room.

But Mike and Connie were only aware of one another.

Connie reached up and slipped her arms around his neck. Her body reacted of it own accord as she felt the urge to pull closer to him, the sudden warmth tingling throughout her body.

She wanted a kiss from Michael Cutter.

Mike's desires burned hotly as he caught her mouth with his, kissing her with undiluted passion. He had waited so long and she was as luscious and sweet as he imagined.

Her body was caught securely in his arms as he explored her with deep strokes of his tongue, trying to be gentle, while a great heat stirred within him.

Mike's compelling kiss was so searing, she could not help but to respond. Wild pleasure flared inside of her, an eager response that was immune to reason.

They strained to be even closer as the seeping excitement of the kiss intensified.

Mike and Connie had managed to block off the noise, shouting and confetti. They were only aware of the sweet joinings of their lips and tongues.

When they finally separated, they both attempted to hold still the jerking rhythm of their breathing. Yet, they could not stop the tremors that coursed throughout their bodies.

The song "Auld Lang Syne" was already nearing its end.

**(Music)**…_we'll take a cup of kindness yet, __for auld lang syne…_

"Happy New Year, Connie," Mike said it so softly that only she could hear.

"...it will be, Mike," Connie responded breathlessly.

Meanwhile, heavy snow and winds continued to pelt the small, rustic town of Applewood. But the freezing weather did not faze Mike and Connie, for love was all they needed to keep each other warm.

.

.

.

_So there it is! It had started as a one-shot and became this! Thank you so so much for reading my story! It was a pure joy to write!_

_(Special thanks: 25thday for her 'gif' episode of 'Called Home" inspiration.)_

_Please review._

_Happy New Year!_


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